My mind field
has white fences
and green clouds
of grass and wood
left in the footprints
of giant men
who speak sweetly
with bitter breath.

There you can feel
the direction of
the earth change
and see its cracks
sigh smoke and
steam, and glow

lay in pleasant
meadows where
clouds and trees
make dark blue

and hear
the broken language
between sleep,
and thought.

There the sun rises
from stone mountains
where the wind is warm
and the moon
and mind collide
in the midst of stars,
attaching themselves
to everything,
filling every corner
of sight and imagination
and igniting across
the universe
in a glorious white,
green and violet-

tainting everything
for a brief moment,
with happiness, pain,
joy, sadness
and curiousity-

until all that is left is
a mass that consumes
all sight and context,
all understanding,
and all meaning.
Belonging to another
me, you.